


Enough

by loveavillain (copper28)



Category: Red Dead Redemption
Genre: Everyone Is Gay, Friendship, Injury, Love Confessions, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-11-23
Updated: 2018-11-23
Packaged: 2019-08-28 06:36:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,576
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16718215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/copper28/pseuds/loveavillain
Summary: Wrote this for a prompt on tumblr and felt like it was AO3 worthy."There were no more words, after that. They didn’t need them. Only the muffled sounds of the camp below them could be heard, and Dutch’s slow even breathing, the occasional rustle of a page being turned. Hosea had never wanted more than this. Peace, and stillness, with Dutch equally content by his side."





	Enough

“Take this up will you?” Miss Grimshaw caught him on his way into camp, passing a bowl of soup into his unsuspecting hands. 

Arthur somehow managed to not drop it. “Uh, okay?” 

His confusion clearly showed, because Miss Grimshaw elaborated. “Dutch won’t let no-one else see him, and I’m worried about that smack on the head he got. He’s been askin’ about you so go to him and make him drink that. See if you can’t make sure he gets some rest too while you’re at it.” 

“Right.” Arthur says, changing from his original path through camp. “Guess that means I’m excused from chores?” 

Miss Grimshaw laughs. “We’ll see. Go on!” 

Arthur chuckled with her and started up towards the house of Shady Belle. 

Of course, who does he run into on the stairs? 

Molly blocks his way, tear stains on her cheeks and a false air of importance about her. “Where you off to with that? You know he doesn’t want to see anyone?” 

“Why ask if you know where I’m goin’?” Arthur snaps, already irritated. “Miss Grimshaw asked me to bring it up.” 

Molly puffed out her chest. “Well, he said he don’t want to see no-one.”

“Uh huh. Guess I’ll find out for myself. Excuse me.” Arthur grumbled, sliding past her on the stairs. 

She lingers as he approaches the door.

He knocks, twice. 

“Molly I swear-“ 

Arthur interrupts. “It’s me, Dutch.”

There’s silence for a second, and then the sound of a lock. The door creaks open, and Molly’s snuffling grows louder. 

Arthur goes in, closing the door behind him. He’s fairly sure she’ll disappear after that, but you never could tell. Dutch’s interest in her didn’t last long, but Molly didn’t seem to be giving up on trying to keep his attention.

“How do you put up with her?” Arthur asks, eyeing the man before him as he sinks back down to sit on the bed. 

Dutch huffs a laugh. “I have endless patience.” 

“Now that’s bullshit.” 

They both chuckle. 

He looked like shit, but Arthur asked how he was anyway. “How you feeling?”

“Is Miss Grimshaw sending you in here to spy on me?”

“She thought you could use some food, but she’s not the only one worried.” 

Arthur takes a step closer. “You took a nasty fall.” 

“I’m fine.” Dutch says, a hand coming up to rub at the back of his head. “You worry too much.” 

Arthur grabs his hand as he lowers it. “Right right, and that there’s just paint is it?” 

Dutch’s fingertips glistened red. 

“Huh.” Dutch says, studying the blood on his hand. “Wasn’t there before.” 

“No shit.” Arthur grumbled, setting the soup on the side table. “C’mere let me look.”

The fact Dutch didn’t protest or complain more spoke volumes. 

Arthur tilted Dutch’s head forwards, so that his forehead was almost pressed against his stomach. Carefully, Arthur smoothed his fingers through the mans hair, pushing the drying bloodied mess away from where the gash was. Thankfully, it wasn’t deep. 

“Yeah I think you got away without stitches.”

“Good. It’s- ow!” Dutch growled, his hands flying up to push Arthur away from him. 

Arthur kept his grip firm, though he doesn’t try prod the injury any more. “Need to clean that up, don’t want it to get infected.” 

“Later, I don’t want to speak to anyone right now. My head’s pounding.” Dutch grumbles. 

Arthur hums. “If you exit this room Molly is going to tie herself to ya.” 

Dutch groans, rubbing his forehead as if that would quell the pain there. “Don’t remind me. That girl can’t take no for an answer.” 

Arthur chuckled, and carefully smoothed Dutch’s hair back into place. “I’ll go guard the door for you. Drink that soup and get some rest, I’ll get someone to bring up a fresh tub in a couple hours.” 

He turns to go, leave Dutch in peace when he feels resistance around his waist. Glancing back, Dutch has hold of his belt. 

“Uh…” Arthur goes to speak, but Dutch beats him to it. 

“Have you seen Hosea?” 

The question is innocent enough, but Arthur isn’t stupid. He’s seen Dutch with Hosea, and their relationship wasn’t exactly conventional. 

Arthur shakes his head. “No, I think he went out this morning with Jack.” 

Dutch hums, wincing as he moves his head. 

“Want me to go get him when he comes back?” Arthur asks, careful not to say the wrong thing. It had been… a stressful time on that particular relationship. Not at all helped by Molly. 

Dutch nods, and then flinches again. “Please.” 

Arthur pauses, noting that Dutch still had hold of his belt. “You good?”

He doesn’t expect the heavy sigh, or the answer he gets to the simple question. “I ain’t been good to him, Arthur. Hurt him with some things I’ve done and he’s still here. Keep wondering what’ll be the tipping point.” 

This was new and dangerous territory. “Hosea ain’t going anywhere Dutch. He’ll always be here, same as me.” 

Dutch smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “You don’t want to be here either. You haven’t got no faith in me anymore. Not sure I blame either of you.” 

“It ain’t like that. We trust you Dutch, we’re just worried is all.” Arthur says, and he gestures towards the food. “Eat summin’. I’ll get Hosea for you.”

It’s barely an hour before Hosea comes back into camp. It’s like he’s got a sixth sense and he knows something is wrong. Or it could be that he was going to see Dutch anyway, Arthur reckons that’s more likely. 

“Arthur. What’s going on?” Hosea asks, pausing as he got to the top of the stairs and saw Arthur standing guard. 

Arthur sighs. “Another job gone bad. Everyone’s okay but we was in one of them trolley carriage things in St Denis. Couldn’t stop it and went flying, Dutch took a pretty hard crack on the head.” 

“God damn. Think we’ll ever catch a break again?” Hosea said with a shake of his head. 

Shrugging, Arthur pushes up off the wall. “Probably not. Think our time is reaching its end if I’m honest.”

“Please tell me you didn’t tell him that.” 

Arthur huffs. “No. Course not. He’s… ah Hosea he ain’t good.”

The sadness that flickers across Hosea’s expression takes Arthur a little by surprise. “I know, kid. He awake?” 

“Was an hour ago. Took him some stew from Miss Grimshaw but I don’t know if he touched it. Now you’re back I’ll go grab someone to help haul a tub up here.” Arthur says, moving out the way of the door. 

Hosea nods, moving past to enter Dutch’s room. “Thank you Arthur.” 

“Oh,” Arthur pauses as he heads down the stairs. “Watch the back of his head. Got a nasty cut, don’t think it needs stitchin’ but, just so y’know.”

It’s information Hosea has to see for himself that instant, and Arthur doesn’t take offence to the lack of response as Hosea disappears. 

Inside Dutch’s room it’s quiet, and Hosea finds the man sitting at the end of the bed, gazing out of the window at nothing. 

“Dutch.” Hosea says softly, trying not to startle him out of his trance. 

There’s a hum from the gang’s leader, and Dutch turns to look at him. 

It takes a few seconds longer than it should for that spark of recognition, and it has Hosea frowning as Dutch’s face lights up a little. “Hey. Where’d you go?”

“Fishing, with little Jack. Don’t get excited though, we didn’t catch much.” Hosea says, taking a seat beside Dutch, their legs touching together. “I hear you almost got knocked clean out.” 

“Understatement.” Dutch grumbled, and he leant forwards, resting his elbows on his knees and putting his head into his hands. “I feel like I’ve been run over. My head is pounding.”

Hosea reached out, tracing the line of Dutch’s hair behind his ear. “Arthur said you were bleeding.”

Dutch just hums, and he takes Hosea’s hand, carefully guiding his fingers through the dark hair to the sticky bloody area. 

“Oh, Dutch.” Hosea said, barely a whisper. 

Neither of them moved, Dutch’s hand still curled carefully around Hosea’s resting against the back of his head. 

“What am I doing, Hosea?” Dutch asks, his thumb caressing the soft skin of Hosea’s wrist. 

For once, Hosea didn’t have an answer for that. “Your best. Like always.” 

Dutch took a deep breath, shaking his head. “You don’t believe that.”

Hosea was tired of this argument. They’d been going round in circles since Blackwater, and Hosea didn’t know how to prove to Dutch that he did still believe in him. Hell, he’d follow Dutch straight to the gallows if that’s where Dutch asked him to go. Sure, he wasn’t totally convinced there was a plan, or that this whole thing would end well for any of them, but he was going to see it out either way. 

“Stop. Not now, Dutch, please. Can we just…” Hosea sighs, smoothing down an unruly piece of Dutch’s hair. “Can we just be together tonight? No arguing, no doubting, just us.” 

“Like old times.” Dutch says bitterly, but even as he says it he’s leaning into Hosea and seeking his comfort. 

Hosea doesn’t answer him, just keeps on gently stroking though his hair.  
There’s a knock on the door, and Hosea reluctantly moved away from Dutch, rising to go answer it. 

Arthur stood with a bucket in hand. 

“Can’t use the tub, there’s a hole in the bottom of it.” He says, holding up the bucket and clean cloth. “Got this instead.” 

Hoses nods, taking the offered bucket. “Okay, we’ll need to get that fixed at some point. Thank you Arthur.” 

Arthur grunts. “Yeah, I’ll see if Bill’s about to help fix it up. You good?”

“Good as can be.” 

Arthur shrugs. “Good enough, I guess. Shout if you need me.” 

Hosea agreed he would, and Arthur disappears back down the stairs, off to do his next chore. The boy never stopped, Hosea was worried about how slim he seemed to be getting. 

But that was a problem for another day, now he had a head wound to clean up and a grouchy Dutch to deal with. 

Coming back into the room, Hosea placed the bucket on the floor beside Dutch’s boots.

“Stay there, let me clean that gash.” Hosea said, dunking the cloth and ringing it out. 

Dutch doesn’t grumble too much, allowing Hosea to perch on the bed beside him. 

“Probably going to sting.” Hosea warns as he starts to part Dutch’s hair, carefully dabbing at the wound. 

There’s only a small hiss from Dutch, and then he falls quiet, barely flinching away as Hosea gently cleans away the dried blood. 

“What are you reading?” 

Hosea pauses in his care. The question was innocent enough, but it was always Dutch’s question he asked just before he was going to say something he felt was important. “I’m not, currently. Why, what are you reading?”

“Nothing interesting.” 

“I find that hard to believe.” Hosea says. He’s finished with cleaning Dutch’s wound up, but he can’t bring himself to move away. This was the closest they’d been in a long time, and Hosea didn’t want the moment to end. 

Dutch sits quietly for a while, getting lost in the rhythmic feel of Hosea’s fingers running through his hair. It was so peaceful, in fact, Dutch could almost forget about the pounding pain that was stabbing through his head. 

“Stay.” Dutch says, barely above a whisper. He’s leaning into Hosea’s touch, the pretence of cleaning his injury forgotten. 

Hosea knows he shouldn’t. It was too complicated, too painful, too risky. Anyone could walk in and see them in a questionable position, and the whole involvement with Molly and the hardships within the gang had put a tension on their relationship that Hosea wasn’t sure would ever snap. 

“Always, Dutch.” Is what he breathes out instead. He’s never been able to refuse this man in all the years he’d known him, he wasn’t going to start now. 

All the fight drains from Dutch, and he seeks Hosea for strength, reassurance, love. Hosea gives it to him, like he always has done, like he always would. 

They settle against the bed, Hosea propped up by the pillow and Dutch curled against his side, one arm thrown across his waist with his head resting comfortably against Hosea’s shoulder. 

“Wake me in an hour. Need-“ Dutch starts to say. 

Hosea cuts him off. “You need a good amount of sleep, Dutch. Wake up when your body wants to wake up.”

“Don’t complain when I sleep for a year then.” Dutch grumbled, but Hosea can see the tiny smile on his face. 

He huffs a laugh, and he can’t stop himself pressing a quick kiss to Dutch’s head. It was an old habit, one that he’d never be able to fully break. 

Dutch hums, and one hand finds its way beneath Hosea’s waistcoat, resting against warm skin. 

Hosea expects no more conversation as Dutch’s breathing evens out, becomes slower and deeper. His eyes are closed, and Hosea has already pulled Dutch’s book off the side table and started to read. 

“I love you.”

The three quiet words were ones Hosea had never thought he would ever hear, and he freezes. 

Dutch has got his head tilted back, staring at his old partner with an intensity that felt like it had gripped hold of Hosea’s soul. 

He goes to speak, but Dutch isn’t finished. 

“I know I’ve never told you before but it’s true. Without you I would have been buried six feet under years ago. You-“ He cuts himself off, frowning as he struggles to find the right words. Something else that seems to happen only with Hosea. “You keep me going. You keep me sane. You keep me good.” 

Hosea just keeps staring at him, wondering if it was possible for a man’s heart to burst because it felt like his was about to. 

“I’m sorry, Hosea.” 

“What for?” Hosea asks, unable to think of anything else to say. 

Dutch sighs, and his gaze drops as he resettles. “Every wrong I ever did you.” 

“Dutch.” Hosea whispers, abandoning the book beside him. His hand goes to Dutch’s jaw, stroking the rough stubble beneath his thumb. “Dutch I forgave you all your flaws years ago. You know I’m with you, until you don’t want me around anymore.”

A quiet settles over the room, with Dutch and Hosea locked in a silent conversation of looks. Sometimes it was too hard to discuss feelings. Some things didn’t need discussing. 

“Say it again.” Hosea asks in the silence, tucking Dutch’s hair behind his ear.  
It didn’t need saying, Hosea had always known Dutch had cared but… well, knowing he loved him was different. 

“I love you.” Dutch said without hesitation, and Hosea wasn’t sure his heart had raced this fast in his life. Not even at the bank job back in 82. 

There were no more words, after that. They didn’t need them. Only the muffled sounds of the camp below them could be heard, and Dutch’s slow even breathing, the occasional rustle of a page being turned. Hosea had never wanted more than this. Peace, and stillness, with Dutch equally content by his side. 

Perhaps they would never reach Tahiti. Maybe they wouldn’t even make it to the end of the month, but this? 

It was enough.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! Hope you liked it, I had fun writing it so here we are. I'm taking prompt requests over on my side blog dastardlydutchvanderlinde if you want to send me anything!


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